Sanguine by Nightfall
by 16DarkMidnight80
Summary: "Excuse me?" came the timid voice of a young woman, probably just reaching her fortieth season..."Have you seen a young boy about this high? He has brown hair and eyes; his name is Lucas." Rated M for safety.


**_Important Note: _**Just_ want to add a little something in before you get started: two seasons equals a year. You'll find out what I mean soon enough._

_When you catch a glimpse of your potential, that's when passion is born. - Zig Ziglar_

... ... ... ...

"Excuse me?" came the timid voice of a young woman, probably just reaching her fortieth season. I turned towards the voice, schooling my expression into one of casual impassiveness. She stood there, wringing her hands worriedly, her blue-green eyes and brown hair shining in the setting sun. "Have you seen a young boy about this high? He has brown hair and eyes; his name is Lucas."

"No, I have not, miss," I answered, curious at her obvious concern for the boy. Was she the boy's mother? If so, why hadn't she been keeping a closer eye on him?

"If you _do_ find him, could you find me and return him? I can't seem to find him anywhere!" I nodded before turning away and walking down the warm, cobbled streets of the Imperial City. Even in the late afternoon, just a few hours shy of the stores closing up for the day, the streets were still filled and crowded in the Market District. The mother turned to another citizen, I could hear, asking if they had seen this _Lucas_.

I wasn't there for pleasure, however. I had a job to do, and I would see it done. The lost boy was none of my concern. I glanced at the Black Band on my right hand, the cool-to-the-touch band resting around my right ring finger, blending with my naturally black scales. I was a long way away from being a lowly ranked member, but despite my success, the Family still treated me as the youngest, a _child_, which I despised greatly.

When I looked back up from my hand, my target was weaving through the masses far ahead of me, unaware of my following him. Occasionally, he would stop and talk with someone, and I busied myself accordingly. As I looked at the wares one man was selling outside, not intent on purchasing any of his things, I caught a flash of something small darting between the legs of the Imperial City patrons. A light giggle reached my ears, such a different sound from the rather dull, annoying din of city life.

A boy, no more than ten seasons, looked out onto the street from behind a city wall, giggling again when he spotted someone in the crowd. His clothes were plain and simple, much like the woman who had stopped me mere minutes before, and he had shaggy brown hair that begged for a cutting. When he whirled around, sprinting as fast as his little legs could carry him, I caught a flash of rich brown eyes. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, spying my mark still chatting with the other man, enraptured in a heated discussion about something or other.

"Hi!" came a cheerful voice, and I looked down to see the same boy, grinning widely back up at me. His face was still round and carried the same squishiness that all humans and even elves and orcs had as young, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Hello, young one," I replied coolly, standing above the boy. "What do you need?"

"Hide me!" he said excitedly, reaching his hands out up at me, asking wordlessly to pick him up. At that, I cocked my eye ridge upwards, and it must have been the expression on my face that made his smile fall slowly, like melting snow off of a roof.

"From whom?" I asked, and the grin came back full force.

"Mommy! Her no can see me!"

"Young one, you should not worry your mother so," I said in a reprimanding manner, a pout growing on the boy's face. "What is your name?"

"Lucas." Ah, my suspicions were correct. I glanced over my shoulder nonchalantly, seeing my mark leave in a huff, marching towards the towering gates that led to the Arena. My guess was that he was off to watch a match before they closed for the night, as the contract had stated he had quite the gambling problem when it came to the Arena matches. I may have been in a…unique profession, but I was not heartless, as many rumored the Family to be.

"Lucas. You should not stray from your mother's side. Bad things happen when you do." I turned to the boy, picked him up, and set him on my hip. With long strides, I walked towards the mother, whom I could see still asking people if they had seen her son.

"Like what?" he asked, curiosity glistening all over his face, his brown eyes twinkling with child-like wonder.

"Bad things," I repeated. "Miss?" Said woman turned to me, gasping in relief when she spotted the boy in my arms. I handed him to her, turning to follow my mark before he got too far away. A match in the Arena wouldn't be too bad, either. It was considered a public setting. I heard the Imperial woman call out, but I didn't pause in my quest, my mission that led me towards the famous Arena.

… … …

I was nearly to the exit with the other patrons before the first scream, feminine by the pitch of it, reached my sensitive ears, but I, with many others, kept walking, shoving one another to leave first. Inside, I smirked an evil grin, but kept my cool, uninterested façade up. With long strides, I quickly got out and began walking towards the Waterfront, where I had come in with my trusty steed. The city slowly grew quieter as I neared the Waterfront District.

Finally reaching it, hearing the water lap at the stone and sand, calmed me, and the tension bled out. Like any other Argonian, the mere sound of water was like a call home, an ancient invitation to ancient roots. However, I knew my horse would want to move out, and I was ready, too. I had never been one for city life, and even a day in the city was enough to get my figurative feathers ruffled.

As I reached the main walk that curved with the wall and water, I heard the pitter-patter of small, running feet, a gleeful giggle following shortly after. I recognized it as the boy from early, Lucas, and I quickly spotted him ducking into a bush, his mother coming from behind at several lengths. Again, she had the worried, haggard look about her, and I was ashamed _for _her. I had my fair share of helping take care of young ones, and some you could never take your eyes off of, because they were bound to up and run the moment you did. Lucas struck me as one of those children.

I melted with the shadow, the moons casting pale slivers of light over the expanse, highlighting the young woman. I slowly, cautiously, made my way over to the occupied bush as the mother turned back the way she came, picking up her skirts in one hand to run. She was well out of view when I came up behind the boy in the bush, and he cautiously peaked out from his hiding spot.

"What," I started, and he jumped around with a small cry of fright before recognizing me, "have I told you about straying?" I knew of children his age that had run away from their parents or caregivers, and ended up in some gutter or in the wilderness, bloody and cold. Something in the boy's eyes spoke of potential, and if my hunch was correct, I'd want him to live for many more seasons before meeting up with him once more.

"Not to," he answered meekly, hanging his head, but no tears fell. He was only chastened, not a child who would easily succumb to the blubbering that would be expected.

"Return home. Now," I spoke sternly, and the boy nodded, looking pitifully up at me.

"Take me?" I sighed, but grasped his outreached hand gingerly, and I lead him out from behind the bush. We walked to the other side, where the houses were, and we went to a small shack near the large archway, the boy swinging our joined hands all the while. I knocked on the door, not looking down at Lucas, where he smiled cheerfully up at me. The same brown haired woman answered, her eyes growing big spotting me holding the hand of her son.

"Please ensure _Lucas_ does not run off again," I slightly growled, letting her know through narrowed eyes and a hint of teeth that it was shameful and I was disgusted with how she couldn't keep track of her own child.

"Thank you," she said, taking the other hand of the boy, who let my own go, thankfully. "I don't know how I can repay you…"

"Watch the boy as a _mother should_, and all debts are paid," I snarled, whirling around and stalking towards the other end of the island, where my horse awaited. The boy called out a farewell, to which I ignored in favor of walking away. On the other side stood a mare, as black as a moonless, stormy night, as black as the Void of which she was sure to have been born from, even if I did know her lineage. I mounted the miffed horse and we took off over the surface of Lake Rumare.

Water-walking could be so effective at times like this.

… … …

It was several seasons later when I returned to the Imperial City, in yet another observation by myself, and to earn the bonus, the murder had to be an elaborate setup. It was going to take time, so I had rented a room at the Tiber Septim Hotel in the Talos Plaza District. The room was upscale and cost more than I usually paid for, but I had to make a show of being in the city for a while.

I hoped to be out of there before week's end.

Unfortunately, I had the misfortune to run into the same boy from seasons earlier. I had hoped to hide from him the moment I spotted him weaving through the crowds, half-eaten apple gripped in his hands as he laughed gaily. Hissing a soft profanity through my teeth, I ducked behind the great dragon statue in the Plaza, cursing my lack of foresight for a hood.

I also wished for my leathers and a proper weapon. However, I was dressed in a brown shirt and light brown linens, and being an Argonian of black scales, I stood out amongst the light colored commoners and the white stone of the city. I knew the exact moment that the boy spotted me was my own doom, not to sound too overdramatic.

"Hey!" he cried, running up to me, not caring if he bumped into an elder, nor was he aware of the muttered curses that followed. I glanced over him; he was taller now, a little broader in build, but his hair was still shaggy and in desperate need of a cut. He appeared to be of sixteen or so seasons, and I looked up, not spotting the worrying mother anywhere.

"Why are you not with your mother, young one?" I asked calmly, and he shrugged indifferently. "That is not an answer."

"I don't know. I think she's somewhere in the Market," he responded, taking another bite of the crisp apple he held.

"Are you not too young to be wandering off by yourself?"

"I'm ten! My mom lets me." I mentally corrected my age of him from sixteen seasons to twenty. Still, I skeptically gazed at him, tapping a claw against the deadly silver dagger that hung from my hip. It wasn't uncommon for anyone to carry some sort of weapon while inside city walls, but I very well could not have my black scabbard strapped to me; it would draw too much attention.

"Young one," I started.

"Lucas," he interjected, looking a little apologetic at my chastening glare.

"_Lucas_," I hissed in annoyance, "you are but a boy. You should stay with your mother, no matter what she says."

"She's off with company," he muttered unhappily, glaring at a rock he kicked with his shoe. So she was a…to put it kindly, a lady of the night. It explained his obvious distain for being around his mother, and why he went off on his own.

"Do you remember when you and I first me, young one?" He nodded, looking back up at me. I glared until he muttered a soft 'yes.' "Do you recall what I told you would happen if you went off by yourself without your mother?"

"Bad things," he repeated the glossed over answer I had told him all those seasons ago.

"Yes. Do you have any relatives in the City?" The shake of his head and a mouthed 'no' caused me to furrow my brow in thought. "What of outside the walls?"

"Not that I know of. Mom never talked about my dad, either." He was obviously a product of one night spent in the bed of a client, of that I had no doubt. Still, his mother seemed to harbor a great deal of affection for her child, something that caused a little surprise. She was obviously devoted to the boy, even if it meant taking time away from him to sell herself to a man that paid.

Across the open area, on the other side of the statue by the gates, I suddenly caught sight of my mark, and I subtly kept an eye on his progress around the circular area. I placed a clawed hand on the boy's shoulder, causing him to glance at it and then to my face.

"Lucas, I am afraid I have some pressing matters that need to be attended to." He deflated underneath my hand, not responding to the light squeeze I gave him. "If it is alright with your mother, meet me here tomorrow three hours after daybreak." I had never seen eyes light up as much as his did in that moment, turning from sorrowful brown pools to sparkling, dark stones of umber. A wide grin broke across his face as he nodded so fast, I was almost sure his head would fall off. And my mark walked into the same hotel I was staying at. I needed to keep an eye on him.

"I'll meet you here!" he exclaimed, and I suppressed a chuckle.

"Only if your mother permits it so," I stressed, and a bit of the light fades, his grin dropping just a hint. I unstrapped the belt that held the dagger on my hip, wrapping the leather around the sheath and blade. "I tire of seeing you walk around without protection. You shall only use this blade in self defense or defense of another, do you understand? I will teach you how to use it in the morrow." He thanked me profusely, tossing the apple away to hug his gift to his chest. Once more ecstatic, he grinned so wide it had to hurt and trotted off, his new treasure clutched to his breast like a girl would her doll. Only when his back was turned and he was a ways away, I then allowed myself a tiny one-sided smile before falling into my professional mode once more.

There was a target in the hotel, and a path I had to follow in order to be able to kill him in the way specified to receive the reward.

… … …

Later that same evening, I was sitting at one end of the Tiber Septim, sipping a glass of water and slowly munching on my dinner of cooked venison and various other foodstuffs. At the other end, with two well-off girls, or women, I guess I should call them, practically hung off of the arms of the muscled Nord. It was obvious he enjoyed the higher way of life, what with his expensive clothes and his own dinner. I felt no jealously; I didn't care much for gold, as I had grown up bartering with other items for the things I needed or wanted, and so, back home, there was a rather large, growing pile of gold in my footlocker.

The women giggled in a shrill tone, rubbing his clothed arms, occasionally slipping a foot around his and higher up. He would jump slightly and enjoy a boom of laughter as they all but threw themselves on him. The proprietor of the hotel would glance their way every now and again, slowly simmering rage hidden her eyes. Other patrons, just as rich and fancy, would shoot glares in the Nord's direction, their quiet meal disturbed by ear-aching laughter and the desperate acts of the two women.

I was tempted to take him out right then and there. A well-placed throwing dagger right in his eye…but my sense of pride and perfection won out. It was tempting, but I knew better than to take my target out where it could potentially be fatal. And I wasn't too keen on leaving my sword up in my room while I fled.

And so, I continued to sit there, eating until my plate was empty, and refilled my glass many times. There was a point when the number one enemy of the Brotherhood, Adamus Phillida walked into the main room of the hotel with a few of his friends from the guard. They sat at the bar, drinking heavy ale like it was water, their laughter loud enough to rival the single Nord. Who was beginning to retreat upstairs with his dual company.

As tantalizing as it would be to take out the irritable old Imperial, it was not my place. Surely, the Night Mother and Sithis would give that honor to the best candidate, but I did not believe it to be me.

I was not one to believe that the Dread Father or the Unholy Matron would whisper in my ear, as some proclaimed. I was faithful to my Family and the Brotherhood, but I was no fanatic, unlike some who I had to call Family, even if I wished not to. And what was more frightening, there was one or two fanatics that held leverage in the Black Hand. That was actually a more worrisome problem than Phillida; he was merely a thorn in our side, but when fanatics take over the root system…

Plant metaphors aside, I stood and placed some gold on my table before retreating back up to my room, intent on sniffing out the Nord and then catching some sleep before morning. Why I had told the boy I would train him was still a mystery to myself; it was an unheard of thing for me to warm up to someone so quickly, and frankly, it was a little troublesome. Perhaps I should speak to Vicente when I returned home.

… … …

Although the room I had rented was on the other side of the hall, farthest away from the room the Nord had stumbled into, I could hear the raunchy activities he participated in, even with the door closed. Knowing I'd never be able to get to sleep with such activities going on, I sat at the chair in the room, table moved to be in front of me next to the window. The moonlight shined its pale fingers onto the table, the light from the magelights and the candle accenting the room with gold along with silver.

On the table sat a pitcher and glass of water, whetstones, and several weapons. I never walked anywhere without being decently prepared, so I had another silver dagger, however it wasn't as ornate as the one I had given the boy, my hand-and-a-half sword, and a few throwing daggers. I proceeded to sharpen and clean the small knives first, followed by the dagger, and lastly my sword.

It was a special, very powerful sword given to me on my Naming Day so many seasons ago. The blade was an iridescent black, much like my own scales, with light blue runes inscribed on either side of the sharp blade. A slight depression, called a fuller, ran down the length on both sides to a point to even out the weight distribution, with a central ridge drawing to the point. Unlike other swords, long swords, or claymores, it was perfectly even from the base to the tip, whereas others would have the weight centered in the middle, near the tip, or at the base.

The cross guard was the same shade of black as the blade, the grip wrapped with maroon colored leather. The pommel was a black, circular piece of metal with a zircon gemstone through it, the light blue clashing spectacularly with the shiny black surrounding it. The blue of the stone shimmered with the same intensity and bright color as the runes on the blade, marked in ancient languages, speaking the words for fire, frost, and shock.

All in all, it was an incredibly deadly blade, one that burns, freezes, and electrocutes the victim with a single strike. I was very fortunate to receive the blade on my Naming Day, no less.

As I cleaned and sharped, taking care to do an excellent job on all, the loud, annoying noises continued from the Nord's room, and I sighed, pausing to look out of the window.

The streets were clear and quiet, unusual for a bustling city of life. Still, it was a nice reprieve from the loudness that would otherwise be present. Even the hustle and bustle calmed down in the evening, with only the occasional beggar, errant teen, or lying commoner prowling the streets for one reason or another.

A night bird called in the distance, a district or two away as I watched a man sneak into a house, eagerly pulled in by an outstretched hand. I saw the glint on his finger from the moons just before he was dragged in, and it didn't surprise me in the least. In the cities, especially the Imperial City, there was no hope for couples to stay faithful to another. It was actually quite sad, I admitted to myself.

… … …

Just before the time I was scheduled to meet up with the boy, if his mother gave him permission, I had finally gotten some…alone time with the Nord.

The two women who had kept him company had left in the wee morning hours, before the sun broke over distant, faded mountains, the stars fading in a sheet of purple and light red. Both were quite disheveled, and they reeked something fierce, the scent carrying from the hall into my room from under the closed door.

So, I had snuck into the drunken Nord's room, entrance made easy by lack of picking the lock. I had in my hand not a blade of any sort, but a piece of glass I had found on the floor. They were the remnants of a broken glass that had fallen on the floor and shattered.

The large Nord was sprawled across the wide bed, face down and the sheet barely covering his more private parts. The room stank of unmentionables, liquor, and what even smelled like skooma. Shifting the makeshift weapon into my left hand, my dominant hand, I studied my surrounds for a moment, recalling the two women. They were both thin, not a hint of actual muscle to be seen. They weren't anything dangerously or disgustingly thin, just…very well maintained. It was obvious they cared about their appearance, if nothing else.

In order to not be fingered as the murderer, I would have to make it seem like the women had done so. It would have to look like a desperate act, too, to seem like an accident, in order to receive the bonus.

Finally reaching a decision, I grasped the glass firmly in my gloved hand, feeling the sharp edges dig through the leather. I carefully rolled the drunken man onto his back, but he did not wake, thankfully. With a practiced and honed movement, I drove the glass under his ribs, puncturing his diaphragm. His reddened eyes sprung open on instinct, but there was nothing, not even a flicker of life. Nonetheless, as I rolled him back onto his stomach, his stunned expression carved forever on his face, I spoke the words for detect life.

The pink-purple cloud that would form in my vision did not come up with him, but I did see where the other patrons were, sound asleep in their own rooms. I quickly left the room and retreated to my own, where I settled down to catch an hour of two of sleep before meeting up with the boy.

… … …

By morning, when I went downstairs, it seemed no one had discovered the body yet. I paid for a small breakfast and left, having checked out with the owner of the hotel. Just as I stepped outside the door, I spotted the boy, dagger, scabbard, and belt in hand standing next to the statue. When his sweeping gaze finally landed on me, his grin grew large, but he stayed put.

"Hi!" he greeted, and I was tempted to call off the training, but I had never gone back on a promise or on my word, and now was not the time to start.

"Good morning. Did you obtain permission?" His nod was excited, and I waved for him to follow. "We are going outside the walls, but I will have you back before dark."

"Where?" came his eager question as he jogged to keep up with my long strides. "I haven't been out of the city that much."

"In sight of the bridge," I answered, and while it was still vague, he did not press anymore, perhaps sensing my slightly lowered patience. The rest of the walk was in silence, the citizens beginning to wake and go to their respective jobs. No one spared us a look, although I imagine we made quite the pair: a nearly fully-grown Argonian with a small Imperial boy following like a starved-for-attention pup.

Once outside the walls, I walked to the stables to retrieve my horse. I had given the Orc specific instructions to leave my horse alone. I had not missed how, when we had arrived, she eyed her up like a tasty meal, mentally quartering her and reading recipes. The act of eating horses was not anything new to me, but I had grown up around them, as little as the time was, and I couldn't bear the thought of eating something I had come to love. It would be like cannibalism: disgusting and outright revolting.

However, there she stood, dozing in the early morning sun, surrounded by the bay horses of the Imperial Legionaries. As I stepped up to the fence, her head perked up, her demon-like eyes spotting me instantly. She happily trotted up to me, butting her head into my shoulder playfully. With a smile, I pushed her head away to open the gate, not needing to put the reins on just yet. I barely used them anyway, but I figured the boy would want _something_ to ground himself. I had a feeling this was his first time on a horse.

"Who's that?" he pointed to the black mare by my side as I put the bridle on. She protested by stamping a hoof into the dirt, tail swishing angrily.

"It is not polite to point," I ignored his question in favor for pointing out his error. I saw his arm fall and his face gain a red tinge, ducked away sheepishly. I waved to him, and he came over readily enough. With no ceremony, I plopped him onto the mare's back, her questioning gaze answered by my own, asking her to give me time to explain. I swung effortlessly behind the boy, putting my arms around him to make sure he didn't fall, even if I didn't need the reins.

With a slight shifting of my weight forward, the mare started off at a trot, the boy jumping a little with a start. Unlike other horses who had their hooves shoed, my horse wouldn't tolerate metal shoes, her hooves already strong enough to take the regular wear and tear. The _clip-clop_ of her hooves against the cobble stone road wasn't as sharp as the Legionaries' horse that we passed on the long, old bridge. I nodded to the guard, who nodded back, my black mare snarling at the bay stallion, who shied away.

"Must you?" I sighed, a grin on my face as soon as we were out of earshot of the guard, and she bobbed her head in answer. We made short work of going down the bridge and past the small farmhouses at the end, turning off the road and into the woods. In view of the road, but well hidden by old trees. When we stopped, I slid off the mare's rear end, Lucas slipping from her withers, nearly falling to his bum on the landing.

"So…what now?"

"Now. Now you shall learn the basics of wielding a dagger correctly." I took off of my mare's bridal and hung it on a branch, patting her flank before she trotted off, melting with the dark. The boy watched, entranced, as she disappeared, fading into nothing the deeper she went.

"How does it do that?"

"She," I corrected, glancing to the Imperial boy. "Her name is Shadowmere." By the slight glare directed my way, I knew he heard the deflection, and how I avoided the answer. It probably had something to do with being plucked out of the Void by Sithis himself, but honestly, I wasn't totally sure. Still, he did not press for a response. I walked over to him, gently taking the sheathed blade from the boy, pulling the leather belt from the scabbard. I threw the belt over the same branch by the bridle before approaching the boy again. "Show me how _you_ think you should hold the dagger." I tossed the blade in the air, catching it nimbly by the covered blade, grip and pommel pointed towards the boy.

Slowly, he grabbed it, adjusting it in his hand with his other before dropping into a very flawed attack stance. Shaking my head, I turned the blade in his hand, correcting his stance. I pushed him, and his newfound stance kept him stable, and his grin almost caught me off-guard.

… … …

"Thanks," he whispered, exhaustion barely letting his raise his voice. Shadowmere was taking us around the island to the Waterfront, the boy slumped against me. The sun was almost down, with the stars and moons already starting to shine in the west. I nodded, humming deep in my chest. His scrawny arms were wrapped around my middle, head pressed against my chest as he drifted in the realm between sleep and awareness.

"I apologize I will be unable to train you more," I said, surprising myself by how _true_ the statement was; I was sorry that I couldn't train him more. He was a quick study, still a long ways away from a person of my caliber, but, in time, he would quickly catch up. His nod caused his face to scrap against my leathers, which I had changed into before we had left. He was wearing my brown shirt, warding away the cold that was creeping in with the approach of winter.

We went right up to the house I remembered as his and his mother's, stopping in the shadow of the house. I helped him slide off, waving his intentions to give me my brown shirt back, and watched closely as he approached the house. With a final, tired wave and thin smile he entered the quiet house. I listened intently for a while longer, hearing nothing suspicious after a while, and so nudged Shadowmere into a canter.

… … …

"Our newest Brother should be here soon," Vicente announced to me as he joined me next to the fire one night, many seasons later. I looked up from my charcoal scribbles, an eye ridge cocked upwards.

"Oh?"

"Yes," the old vampire chuckled, attempting to sneak a peek at my pad of parchment, which I moved out of his line of sight. "I do believe you'll…enjoy this new Brother."

"We shall see."

… … …

The ancient door groaned open, but I didn't look up from my customary spot next to the fire, curled up comfortably on an oversized chair. I scrapped the charcoal along the parchment, a picture forming without my strict knowledge. Soft steps announced the arrival of the newest Brother, but I continued to draw, the warm fire flickering beside me.

"Vicente," I called across the room, knowing he was in the training room, practicing with another Murderer. "Your new meat has arrived." He sounded his own confirmation, the slight _thunk_ of wood on wood coming from the room.

"You…" trailed a familiar voice, one that struck a cord that had long since resonated. Confused, I finally drew my eyes away from the slightly yellowed parchment.

"By Sithis…" I murmured, my silver eyes raking over the person standing in front of me. He was no longer a skinny, lanky child with too-big brown eyes and shaggy hair. No, who stood in front of me was a young man of about thirty seasons, more muscle on his fine frame, hair cropped neatly and tied back. I carefully placed my supplies on the floor, away from the fire, and stood, shuffling over to him. "Lucas?"

"Lucien," he corrected with a wry grin. "I go by Lucien Lachance now."

"Lucien," I repeated, tasting the new name. "It fits you well. You will grow into your name well."

"Thank you," he nodded as I stepped forward, not too far from him.

"This will probably be the last time this is offered," I said, holding my arms out slightly from my sides. Surprisingly, he dove into my arms after a moment of hesitation, and I sighed. Something was now complete.

"You taught me a lot," he said once he stepped back, a smile on his face. "You saved my life."

"How so?"

"I'll tell you about it later. I have to find a man named Vicente Valtieri."

"He will be along shortly."

"Do I get to know your name now?" When I looked at him, utterly confused, he chuckled, a deep, resonating sound which seemed _too deep_ for him. But he would grow into it, just like his name. "You told me Shadowmere's name, but never yours."

"Ki-Luna," I grinned, patting his shoulder with a clawed hand. "I see you still have the dagger," I motioned to the scabbard strapped to his hip. He nodded with a grin, patting it affectionately.

"Why would I get rid of the one thing that made me who I am?" I just laughed. On the parchment by the fire was a drawing, one I drew because it was how my hand had taken itself. The drawing was of an old farmhouse, a beautiful orchard and garden covered by a layer of snow, five gravestones cropping out of the land. Inside, through the windows, were non-descriptive drawings of six figures, a fire burning in the visible fireplace. Outside stood five horses, one standing off to the side, away from the others who were tied to the trees.

If only I knew how real this one innocent picture would become...

... ... ... ...

_Luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it. - Hunter S. Thompson_

_Everything but my OC is owned by Bethesda. This was reviewed by my beta, _Alathea2. _Otherwise, all mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoyed it. Please, read and review, because I enjoy constructive criticism. Have an awesome day, everyone!_


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